Wail of the Yathrinshee
by Grand Magus Adam
Summary: Gennifae, a high priestess of Kiaransalee resurrects her goddess and seeks revenge on the people who perpetrated the act and Lolth, but sometimes the phrase the enemy of my enemy is my friend


**A/N I hope I can update this story as soon as possible. I hope you all like it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Forgotten Realms or any of the characters that have been published by them. I own Gennifae and her brothers and sister but not House T'sarran. All other characters not published by FR or WotC are mine.**

**Summary: This story takes place during fourth edition Forgotten Realms. Gennifae, a high priestess of Kiaransalee resurrects her goddess and seeks revenge on the people who perpetrated the act and Lolth, but sometimes the phrase the enemy of my enemy is my friend rings true. But who is that friend? Who is the enemy?**

Prelude

Gennifae T'sarran knelt before the coffin shaped altar in the temple of Castle Maerymidra. Offerings were spread out before her: the hearts of several different kinds of monstrous spiders that dwelt within the Underdark, specifically, those that lived near Lolth venerating settlements. Black and purple flames glowed from candle sticks flanking either side of the altar. The silver rings on all of Gennifae's fingers, except for her thumbs, flashed in the gloom light. She began to singe a low dirge, each mournful note a prayer. The hood of her cowl was draped on her shoulders, so that she could better show her face to her goddess. Long, bone white hair cascaded down over the hood slightly past her shoulders and some of it over her shoulders. The candle's flame illuminated her grey skin and blood red eyes. She chanted her goddess's name once and looked up into the altar. That goddess being Kiaransalee, Queen of the undead and vengeance.

Gennifae had been a priestess of The Revenancer for the past two hundred and fifty years of her life starting when she reached the tender age of sixteen, almost a time she could barely recollect. The priestess unsheathed her bone handled dagger. The blue energy of the blade glowed within the gloom of the temple. "Lady of Vengeance, Queen of the Undead, I offer you the very life sources of the creatures you despise so much. I give these to you, in hope that you will come back to strength and return favour and power to House T'sarran." The energy blade of Gennifae's dagger slice the thirteen hearts of the various spider beasts she killed. The blood that still remained within them spilled onto the onyx top of the altar.

A rush of excitement and euphoria raced through Gennifae's blood. A cruel smile formed on her face; she would have her revenge. It had been years since she felt sure of her plans. It was even longer since she could even remember her goddess's name. Those dark days haunted her memories. She and the few survivors of the surface attack on Maerymidra and the Undying Temmple had scattered the forces of Kiaransalee and killed Gennifae's aunt, Irae T'sarran. But the worst was when Cabrath Nelinderra, Irae's second in command who also happened to die in the surface attack but was resurrected as a keening spirit, brought Kiaransalee's cult back together and sought to exact revenge, they were supplanted once again, but more gravely this time.

The Dark Times of Kiaransalee's cult came to pass. It all began with the death of the goddess they worshiped. During an attack by the Eillistraeen forces, a group of wizards in the city of Shammath worked high magic, a thing that was almost unknown to be accessible to the drow. With that power, they erased Kiaransalee's very name from everything's mind. Without being known to her followers, she died from lack of worship. The Eillistraeen forces soon committed mass homocide on The Revenancer's faithful. Over eighty percent of the clergy and faithful were killed at their hands. This was something that Kiaransalee's cult would _never_ forget.

Small bands of survivors were scattered across the Underdark. Gennifae preferred to not remember _those_ times. They lived like animals. Constantly scavenging for food and always seeking shelter or safety. Gennifae had been the leader of one such group. Along with her two brothers and younger sister, they held together a slightly large group of survivors, about six hundred and ninety six drow, mostly live save for the few liches, revenants, and priests. Together, they eked out a life of strife and need. Strife for all of the various dangers the Underdark concealed and need for all of the things that were taken away from them. Including faith.

Gennifae and her close cirlce of former clergy searched vehemently for answers. The question that tortured them the most was: Who did we serve? What was her name? Who was she? The pain of not knowing consumed them. It ate away at their sanity. Depriving them of the basic functions of life without constantly questioning. The faithful could only remember the details about their clergy, but nothing of the goddess of who they served. The only things they could recollect were that she was a death and vengence goddess. But without knowledge of their goddess, Gennifae's survivors gradually lost information on their practices. What did the goddess want offered to her? Who were her enemies? Rituals and rites slipped their fragile minds as well.

Their basic lives were no better. After countless days, maybe even months, it didn't matter because it seemed to be an eternity, they came across a small enclave close to a small lake. Mushrooms grew in plentiful proportions here, so it seemed that this would be a perfect place to settle. But nothing was that simple. Their was a small drider nest nearby. On the days that it seemed everything would be okay, the driders attacked en masse. Gennifae's people were caugt off guard and scrambled to defend what was left of their faithful. Gennifae and the forces protecting the survivors attacked with such a crazed ferocity that the driders were instantly in retreat. The battle waged on for hours and was in the favour of Gennifae's people.

Soon, the driders were decimated and their nest was set ablaze. Wearily, Gennifae and the forces protecting the survivors returned to where they were encamped. Now, their lives seemed forfeit, for many of the most talented warriors, mages, priests and other defenders were winded or wounded or both. The world seemed to be closing in on Gennifae and her people. Gennifae cursed the people who killed her goddess, cursed them for generations, she would see them all tortured in the most brutal of ways, even what would seem cruel to them. She would have her sweet, dark retribution.

One day that was like any other miserable day for them, Gennifae and her small team of scouts came across a little cave. Cautious, the lich Quezziran coated them in protection spells. Once they were all magically protected, Gennifae proceeded into the cave, moving as quietly and carefully as she could. But what greeted her inside was not something to flee from. The cave was decorated with bones and various assortments of death motifs. On the ceiling, skulls looked down upon the group as though they knew why they were here.

Gennifae walked over to a sarcophagus shaped altar that was made of onyx as black as the void. Upon that altar was a black book with extinguished candles on each side. The book's cover was made of what she determined was corpse skin dyed black, with designs of bones and skulls on the cover, back and spine. Gennifae's heart raced at the site. She stumbled over to the altar, nearly tripping on loose bones or stones. She reached both hands down towards the tome, the palms of her hands tingling. The priestess lifted it from its resting place. Her heart was racing. Something was right about that book. Something told her that it held all of the answers her people continuously asked.

She lifted the cover. The sweet smell of death filled her nostrils. And then she saw the word printed in High Drowish on the first page. That one word that she had forgotten. The one word, one _name_ that had nearly destroyed her last clinging bits of sanity. Zandifein, Gennifae's oldest brother looked worriedly over to his sister. He made his way closer to her, to everyone in the cave that saw her, she seemed to be uneasy, something was wrong with her though they couldn't put it quite into words.

Then all of a sudden, with a burst of unholy joy, Gennifae screeched the name that would answer all of her people's questions, all of the things that plagued her people, "KIARANSALEE!"

To the team that witnessed Gennifae's discovery, they all shed tears. The one name that they couldn't remember suddenly filled the void withing their minds.

_Somwhere in the Astral Sea_

The corpse of a deity floated lazily throught the cosmic space of the Astral Sea. It had no use to any other god that might come across it, save for an exarch or a slave. But it remained unseen by all. It had a name, but none of the gods knew it, but they once had. It had once had power enough to conquer all of the Underdark. But it's plans were thwarted. So it stayed their. In the Astral Sea, floating aimlessly, without any clear reason why it was still there.

Suddenly, powered surged through its body. Deific power race through its outer limits, to its very core. Kiaransalee awoke from her cold, true death with a feeling of great anger, and a red hot thirst for revenge.


End file.
